Chapter One: Wood
For Thomas, the day had started like any other on the Isle of Sodor: he and his friends had been hurrying to every corner of the island, delivering precious cargo to its friendly residents. He didn't think anything of it when the time came to bring the final parcel to its destination - an anonymous recipient whose address seemed to be in a remote area. "Perhaps there has been some kind of mistake," mused Thomas aloud.
"We had better go, just to be sure," replied his driver. "Good engines always do their job to the best of their ability."
"You're right," nodded Thomas, and they trundled along the tracks which reached further and further away from the other islanders' homes. The fewer houses and cars they passed, the more trees surrounded them. The area around them darkened as the encroaching sunset cast shadows between the trunks of oak and cedar, making Thomas uncomfortably aware that nobody would be able to find them if they got lost. Nevertheless, the young engine continued on his path, determined to fulfil the last duty of the day.
When they arrived at the end of the rail, Thomas and his driver blinked in confusion. They had wondered if perhaps an artist or author had been residing in the wood for inspiration, perhaps a reclusive eccentric who wished to distance himself from the rest of Sodor; but they found no hideaway. Moreover, they could see no sign of life whatsoever but for the moss and fungi growing on the bumper post with faded, crackling paint.
"Well, we tried," said the driver, breaking the eerie silence and patting Thomas on the boiler reassuringly. "If we make a move, we might be able to get back before nightfall and find out who this belongs to." But as the friends turned to leave, they found themselves no longer alone.